Break  Rewritten
by FieryFiction
Summary: Rewritten and actually edited version. The characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen? AU USUK Character deaths
1. Chapter 1

**Fiery: Yeah had to redo it since it was the fanfiction I got threatened with a shotgun with. I loved writing it but the thing was it was all night, non-stop, no editing, and making up the plot as I went. So here it is a decent version of my favorite fanfiction of mine Break. It will be different. Copyrights - Story/plot© Me, Characters© Hidekaz Himaruya. Summary I love you this time. You don't suck.**

**Summary: Rewritten and actually edited version. The characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen?**

**Warning: Language, Character death**

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><p>Break- Rewritten<p>

Chapter One

A light rain had been sprinkling down all day. It had started getting harsher around fifth period. By the last class period the rain was cascading down like a waterfall. Tiny chunks of hail fell with the drops. The sky was practically black aside from the white flashes from the branching power the clouds generated.

But the dreadful weather and sounds didn't lower the energy in the classroom. "And then I gave him a good kick in the balls!" A boy with silvery blond—mostly silver—hair declared. His eyes were a ruby color mixed with lilac purple that barely showed at all. He wore a black shirt, which stood out greatly against his pail skin, a white button up shirt over it—unbuttoned naturally, and a red jacket on top of that making him out of dress code. The moment teachers saw him they gave him detention for it at the beginning of the year. Now only two teachers hadn't given up and still gave him an hour of after school detention every day for it. He was telling a tale to his friends in the study hall classroom. He emphasized his words by giving the desk in front of his a good kick.

The quiet Finnish boy yelped as his chair rocked and fell out of his seat. His head slammed on the floor. The thud sounded over the pounding of rain and hail, alerting the teacher to misbehavior in her classroom. She was a brunette and wore her hair up in a bun. Black framed, rounded reading glasses had been perched on her nose for she had been reading a book. Her emerald eyes flicked up from her book an locked on the "pure bred Prussian." "Beilschmidt, detention," Ms. Héderváry sighed.

"How do you know it was me? It could have been Un-Awesome Al here or Toni!" Gilbert snapped, pointing an accusing finger at the wheat blond American sitting beside him.

The American boy wore glasses and a white vest instead of the usual tan one, he also wore no jacket and had his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, making him out of uniform as well. The teachers had long since given up on getting him to wear the normal vest and ignored his sleeves. He wore an uncharacteristic frown on his face. The darker blond eyebrows above his sky-grey eyes frowned with his lips. "Dude I think you seriously hurt him," Alfred muttered and he leaned over his desk to get a better look at the teen on the ground.

"Shut up Ami! You're not helping!" the "pure bred Prussian" snapped. The nickname Gilbert used for Alfred is the _German slang_ word for American people, and he had been using it ever since the two met.

"It did look rather painful," a blue eyed Frenchman said from the other side of Gilbert. He had long blond hair and stubble on his chin. Francis never wore a tie or vest, and he always wore his white dress shirt with the top two buttons unbuttoned. Since he had only female teachers he managed to get away with it this year. He always frowned at the fact that they had to wear purple plaid pants with brown shoes and blue jackets. But the Frenchman said he could make it look good and several girls in the school would agree. He was standing out of his desk and leaning over Tino's to get a better look at him.

The Hungarian teacher came over and frowned at him. "Berwald, do you think you could take him down to the nurse?" she asked.

The intimidating Swedish student nodded and got up from his seat. The tall teen scooped up the other and carried him out of the room. When the door shut the power shut off with an exploding clap of thunder. The ruckus caused Alfred to jump and his desk to fall over. Apparently Gilbert had jumped out of his seat when the thunder erupted because the Freshman and his desk landed on top of the Sophomore.

"Get off you dick! You're crushing me!" the "pure bred Prussian" snapped.

Alfred grumbled and kicked his desk back up then climbed off of the albino. "Sorry bro," he grinned, holding a hand out for the other to grab, though he couldn't see it. The older teen pushed himself up and sat back in his chair.

The room was only illuminated ever so slightly by the blue glow of the Spanish student behind Gilbert's seat's cell phone. He was probably texting that Lovino kid again. The dusty brown haired teen was the only member of the school's trouble making trio called the Bad Touch Trio that was in dress code. He wore a full sweater version of the tan vests everyone wore except with the sleeves cut to just above his elbows, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to there. The cuffs were unbuttoned and went over the ragged cuts on the sweater. Francis was whimpering a bit and standing close to Antonio so that he wouldn't be in complete darkness.

Gilbert joined him with an annoyed look on his face. He was trying to block the fact that his friend was texting in class which the teacher caught right away.

"Carriedo!" she snapped.

"Um was it 'C'?" he asked weakly, looking up.

"We don't even do things like that in this class," she scoffed. "Detention, and I'll take your pho-ack!" Ms. Héderváry yelped. "Who ever has that light get it out of my eyes!" the teacher yelled, covering her eyes.

The light that had found it's way to her face swooped up to the ceiling, illuminating most of the room."Sorry mam, I was just wondering if you had any torches in here," a British accent replied. "The kids in our class aren't dense enough to use their phones." the Student Body president said calmly as he came into the room. The Sophomore had messy blond hair and large, bushy brown eyebrows. His green eyes were a sort of average leafy color, and he was in perfect dress code. The only variations to his outfit was that he wore a grey-green sweater vest instead of the usual tan and wore a silver pin on his blue-violet jacket that showed he was part of the Student Council. Arthur held in his hand a book light which he was using as a makeshift flashlight.

Gilbert elbowed Antonio, causing the other teen to look up from his phone which he had returned texting on. The Spaniard quickly hid it under one of his legs. "Hola Arthur!" he laughed nervously. The Spanish teen was waving almost frantically at him.

The Brit raised a large eyebrow, looking unamused. He walked over and held out his hand to get the phone. "Hand it over," he commanded.

"Oh calm down Artie, Spring Break is tomorrow, you can take his phone after it's over," Alfred waved dismissively from beside Arthur.

"It's Arthur not Artie, you git!" The English student snapped, turning to face the American. He blushed a bit when he saw who he was yelling at. "Oh hi Alfred," he tried punctuating his words with a slight smile that came out slightly nervously.

"Awwwwww," the trio all cooed. They all put their left hand on their left cheek, cocked their heads, and smiled mockingly in unison as they did so.

"S-shut up!" the Student Council president snapped.

Francis smirked and lay his arms across the Englishman and the American's shoulders. The duo frowned at him as he did so. Alfred ducked under the other's arm and tripped over a desk. He fell backwards and crashed to the floor was a cry of, "Son of a bitch!"

"What was that Jones?" the Hungarian teacher asked menacingly.

"Nothing mom," Alfred replied from the floor with his teeth grit. He had hit his head and had a dull fuzzy sensation tingling in his nose, causing the air to smell the same way, dull, fuzzy, and tingling. "Fuck I mean- Shit I mean- Dammit I mean- Gah, I give up!" The American finished, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"You can join your friends in detention," the teacher frowned.

The Bad Touch Trio and the rest of the class broke out laughing at that. The Frenchman, being distracted, had been shoved off of the Brit who walked, defiantly walked, over to the American. "You okay?" he asked, standing by the other's feet which were in the air on the other side of the desk. The Sophomore held out his hand for the Freshman to take.

"Yeah..." Alfred muttered blushing a bit, though it couldn't really be seen because of Arthur's book light facing the floor. He took the older teen's hand and started getting up, only to pull the other onto him.

The Bad Touch Trio started wolf whistling at the duo. From one of them came a shout of: "Moving a bit quickly aren't you, Al?" Arthur's face turned bright red and he quickly clambered off of the American student. The English teen brushed himself off and coughed nervously into his hand. He straightened his tie and then offered his hand again, not looking at the other student, praying the blush on his face would hurry on it's merry way and leave him alone. The Freshman picked up the book light that had been dropped while the Brit was falling and took the other's hand, pulling himself successfully to his feet this time.

The British teen found himself unwilling to let go of Alfred's hand as he was offered the book light. Arthur took it and reluctantly let go. Upon finding he didn't let go last his lips twitched into a slight smile. He had enjoyed the slight tingling in his hand that came from being in contact with the other teen. It made his heart flutter and his cheeks warm a bit more, and it appeared to have done the same to the other boy though he couldn't really tell in the dark. From the way the American shoved his hands in his pockets afterwards and his slight shifting of his weight to the other foot reassured the Briton a bit on his thoughts.

"Aw l'amour is in the air. Can't you feel it?" The French student sighed, resting his elbow in one of his palms and his cheek upon the other. A mocking, warm smile had spread on the Francis's face.

"You can go to detention too Francis," Arthur scowled, turning to face the other Sophomore.

"What? But I did nothing!" the French student pouted.

"You were making fun of slash taunting me. That could be considered bullying, and you know how that isn't allowed," the English student smirked in triumph when the typically flirty face deflated.

Francis took in a deep breath and scowled at him."Condamnez-vous," he muttered.

"Since when can you give detention?" Gilbert asked, puzzled.

"Since forever; I just usually don't," the British student shrugged.

"Well fuck. I'm dead," the "pure bred Prussian" muttered.

"Add another hour to your detention Beilschmidt. For cussing," Ms. Héderváry tagged on the last bit so she wouldn't have to talk to him as long.

"Bitch," the albino scowled at her.

"What was that?" the auburn haired teacher seethed.

"Sorry, Bitch Queen," the member of the Bad Touch Trio bowed.

The Hungarian teacher looked beside herself with rage as the class roared with laughter. Students who had been walking down the hallway peered in to see what was going on. Right when the teacher was about to start shouting the principal walked in. "What is going on here?" he asked in a low growling tone.

Everyone in the class went silent and had their eyes drawn to the doorway which was now vacant of students. The tall, long blond haired man stalked into the class and frowned at Gilbert.

"'Sup Vater?" He grinned his mischievous and sly grin, raising a hand in greeting.

"Schließen Sie Sie inkompetenter Dummkopf," His father scowled at him.

"Kein kann tun," the "pure bred Prussian" smiled. His eyebrows flicked up as he spoke and slowly lowered themselves.

The tall blond German sighed and took his eyes from his troublesome son and turned them to the ceiling. "Why can't you be more like Ludwig?" He took in a deep breath then spread his icy gaze to the rest of the class. "Class has been dismissed. Walking home isn't suggested so if you can get a ride from someone please do so," he informed the students.

Everyone jumped up and started walking out. Antonio and Gilbert headed for the door where they were grabbed by the principal and thrust back into the room. "I know for sure that you four have detention today. There isn't a day you don't have it," he scowled at the Bad Touch Trio and Alfred. The four just grinned. Gilbert and Alfred even high-fived. He sighed and shook his head. "Arthur can you assist them in getting to the Detention Hall? I don't trust them to go on their own."

"Yes sir," Arthur nodded and hooked his arm around Alfred's, blushing slightly as he did so. He also grabbed Gilbert by the back of his shirt and started walking. He paused then looked to Antonio and Francis. "You walk in front of me," the Student Body president ordered.

The duo had obviously been planning on sneaking off by the way their shoulders drooped and their grins fell. They then moved in front of the Brit. The group walked in silence down the hallway. Arthur was pressing himself against the Freshman a bit with a smile tugging at his lips. The English teen had accepted a long time ago that he was not hetrosexual—he was mainly interested in the American beside him—but never told anybody. He even started dating a girl from Seychelles to cover up how much the Briton had been longing for him. Though it was getting much, much harder to hide.

Gilbert's voice pulled Arthur out of his little happy thoughts. The Brit straightened up as he heard him shout, "Oi Bruder!" The "pure bred Prussian" waved with a wide grin on his face.

The teen he had called to had slicked back, neat blond hair and was in perfect World W Academy dress code only altered by the silver Student Council badge. The tall Freshman glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "What do you want?" the German asked. Ludwig was Gilbert's brother, not by blood though. The albino had been adopted from East Germany before the other was born. They grew up together just as if they were brothers though and were just as close.

"Art and Vater and being assholes, mind taking me home?" the albino smirked. "I'll pay you even."

Ludwig sighed and shook his head. The German then turned his cool blue gaze at Arthur, "You want any help?" he asked.

"Yes please," he nodded to the Vice President. He passed the Albino to the other who had grabbed a hold of the Spaniard's shirt, preparing to drag him along.

"To detention correct?" the younger student asked.

"Yes," Arthur nodded.

"Aw come on Bruder I have four hours today!" the older sibling yelled at his younger.

"Your fault," the blond sighed.

Francis walked back so that the other Student Council member could keep a hold of him with a smirk. All that he got was a harsh questioning glare. The Frenchman chuckled wryly. "What Anglais?" he asked.

"I don't want to touch you. Who knows where you've been," the Brit frowned, scrunching up his nose in mock disgust. In truth Arthur and Francis were just rivals; they didn't truly hate each other. They were step-brothers after all. That would be rather hard.

Alfred laughed at that. Arthur smiled and looked over at him, blushing slightly. "Aww," Francis cooed again, receiving a good smack on the back of the head from the Brit as he reluctantly let go of the other student. The Frenchman laughed and the blond trio started walking, the German and Spanish students already out of sight.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Arthur dropped the duo off at the Detention Hall and turned to leave. "Hey Arthur, I have a question," Francis called to him. The American was already in the room, and the door had shut.

The Brit turned around and with a sigh asked, "What Francis?"

"How deeply?" the Frenchman asked, leaning against the door and crossing his arms on his chest.

"What are you talking about?" the Englishman asked.

The Sophomore against the door walked over to his step-brother. "How deeply have you fallen for our American friend's... charms?" Francis asked quietly. He had paused to think of a word to describe the grotesque way the younger blond acted.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur said, quickly turning his back on the other teen and crossing his arms.

"Yes you do," the Frenchman quipped. His head was hovering over the sandy blond teen's shoulder. The step-brothers stood: one leaning over the other with his hands in his pockets; the other arms crossed, nose up, and eyes diverted from his non-related relative. "Mon cher ami anglais, I know you have fallen for him. I just want to know... How deeply?" he asked his tone soft and quiet as a mouse.

"So... I... I'm not... too... too deep..." Arthur muttered. His gaze fell to the floor, and he walked away silently, leaving his rival to straighten up and stare after him.

"Good talk," Francis muttered to himself. He elegantly turned and strode into the Detention Hall.

Inside was the other usual group of students. Lovino, an auburn haired Sophomore with chestnut eyes and a very sensitive curl coming from the front of his hair where it was parted, was a usual. He wore no tie and no jacket, wearing his sleeves of his tan sweater—he wore one instead of a vest like Antonio—rolled up to the middle of his upper arm. His dress shirt had the top button unbuttoned and it's sleeves were at his elbows, the cuffs folded up like the Spaniards as well. The other two Usuals were Sadiq and Heracles— two Juniors on the American football team—wore brown jackets with collars that stuck up. The collars had white and black horizontal stripes. Each jacket had a small star in a circle pinned on them as well as a number printed on the back of the jacket. Heracles's said "50" and Sadiq's said "05." Both had brown hair though the Turkish student's was dark and short whereas the Greek's was long and light. The Turk also had a bit of fuzz on his face and merry gold eyes while the Greek student had a clean face and drowsy green eyes. Sadiq was really a nice, jolly guy except when around Heracles, and Heracles was a drowsy, dull guy except when around Sadiq. The duo had a sharp rivalry and fought often. They were very temperamental around each other. When they were fighting or competing was the only time you'd see them both alert and angry. Those attitudes toward each other landed them in detention together quiet a lot.

The really fit Detention Hall teacher smiled happily as he always does. His brown hair messy and curly as usual with one curl on the side of his head slightly longer than the rest. His gold coin eyes shone with glee and merriment. "Nice to see you all back here," he laughed. He wore his typical white dress shirt with his light brown suit jacket and ever so slightly darker dress pants. Around his neck, under the collar of his shirt of course, was a brown leather bolo tie with a gold clasp that would just a large round coin.

"Not nice to be here Romaji," Alfred sighed from his usual seat by the door. "My step mom is going to be pissed. I'm probably gonna miss my flight. My dad's probably already up in Canada by now knowing him," the American frowned. "God and Mattie can't fly alone the guy flips out about navigating the airport and going through security."

"Why did Matteiu even come down to Amerique?" Francis asked.

"This school's better apparently," the American shrugged.

"Wait isn't he part of the Student Council?" Gilbert asked from his seat next to the window and in the farthest corner from the door which was at the back of the room.

"Hell if I know," the blond freshman shrugged.

"I believe he is," the French student in the seat behind the albino's muttered.

"If he is they have to stay after. That's what Lud told me," the "pure bred Prussian" informed him.

"Oh. Well then things work out," Alfred shrugged.

"I said leave me alone you fucking tomato loving bastard!" Lovino snapped from his seat, interrupting their conversation. It was two to the left from Gilbert's.

Behind him sat Antonio who was leaning over his desk and had his arms wrapped around just below the temperamental teen's shoulders. "But Lovi you're so cuddly~"

"But Toni~" the Italian mocked, "get the fuck off!"

"Lovino Vargas," Romaji said warningly. He walked across the room with a jar in his hand that was filled to the brim with cash. "Dollar," the teacher demanded.

"I don't have any money left you shitty ass father," the Sophomore scowled at him.

The response was a jar shoved into his face and a sing song, "Dollar~" from his father.

"I have money Lovi!" Antonio cried out, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a dollar as fast as he could. He handed it to the other teen.

"I don't need your money you bastard," the Italian muttered while taking the dollar and putting it in the jar, smirking up at his father as he did so.

Heracles woke up when thunder erupted around them. The Greek sat at the corner desk in front of Alfred. Since he slept all the time it made the American jump out of his skin. "Hmm? What was that?" the Junior asked the air around him.

"It was thunder dumb ass go back to sleep," Sadiq grumbled from his seat at the center desk in the back of the room.

"Huh," the Greek breathed out. "I thought I heard something..." With that said the light brown haired teen's head fell and he slumped over on his desk once more, snoring ever so slightly.

_'So I wasn't the only one,'_ Alfred thought. The American looked out the small tinted window on the door. Hidden in the clap of thunder was something that disturbed the freshman. Why would someone be firing a gun in the school? The echo from the shot still faintly ricocheted off the walls of the halls. The idea both set Alfred on edge and made him curious. He shifted in his seat when he heard approaching footsteps.

The American glanced down at his backpack. He knew it was illegal, but he always brought a gun to school. He brought one everywhere really. The teen was very weary of what could happen. Seriously, what if he was out and a zombie apocalypse struck? His hand inched towards his backpack. It was unzipping by the time a shadow fell across the door and the doorknob started to slowly turn.

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><p><strong>AN Time!**

**Al: Why did you have to redo _this_ fic?**

**Fiery: Because it was horribly written and I thought I would love writing it as much as I did the first time, but it was shit...**

**Al: But-**

**Fiery: NO SPOILERS FOR THE LOVELY READERS!**

**Arthur: You. Are. An. Ass.**

**Fiery: Yeah yeah yeah I get enough insults already. Now get back out there and start acting it out so I can write it.**

**Arthur: No thanks. I'd rather gouge my own eyes out.**

**Fiery: *Smirks* Well I wasn't planning on it, but that could be arranged. *walks closer***

**Al: * Hits on the back of head* No touchie the Artie.**

**Fiery: Mother- *faints***

**Extra note!**

**Fiery: If you guys review I would end up remembering to write this more. Seriously I have no attention span besides for reading USUK and I'll think the reviews are stories in my emails... I'M NOT TELLING YOU YOU HAVE TO REVIEW. In all honesty I don't care, but it gets my attention away from Minecraft, videos, and my roleplay websit****e. My Rp site is http:/ dshetalians. proboards. com/. the ds at the beginning just stands for the name of my town nothing more. Origionally I thought it was just going to be me and the Hetalians from my school there, but then Becky(Our Amazingly Awesome Prussia who now Skypes with us all the time) joined-ironically that I'm putting this here-because of my Break fic and people from the web have been joining sense. Even if they aren't very active, though they don't really have much to do because of our lack of characters... Yeah that actually was a "sneaky" attempt at getting you to join my site and review but you don't have to if you don't want to.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Copyrights: Characters© Hidekaz Himaruya, Story© Me**

**Summary: The characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen? AU USUK Character deaths**

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

Fingers were both around the gun now and crossed as Alfred sat, waiting for the door to open. The silhouette was still there standing ominously and unidentifiable turning to knob. Suddenly the door was flung open. The American's muscles tensed, and he whipped out his gun. Thankfully he managed to spot who it was before he got it out from under the desk. Quickly the freshman shoved it back in his bag and cocked his head and eyebrows, putting on an innocent grim.

"Mr. Vargas," an English accent rang out, "Feliciano is scared, and wont let us get any work done. We were wondering if we could work in here, so he could be with you and his brother." Arthur's hand was lingering on the brass knob, holding his door open. He looked at the teacher, and then his eyes fell on the American in front of him. The British teen blushed a bit when he saw that the younger blond was looking at him with a smile on his face.

Thunder erupted through the building, nothing odd about it this time, and Feliciano broke the pair's gazes by shoving into the room and running for his father. "Padreeeeeeeee!" he called as he ran with his arms extended. He was wearing perfect World W. Academy dress code except with a brown vest instead of tan and the silver pin showing he was in student council. His light red-auburn hair was parted ever so slightly different than his brother's, less centered and more to the left, and where his father's longest curl was a curl came from his head. His eyes, which matched his hair, were closed as he wailed.

"Feli~" Romaji sung, running for his son. His arms were extended in the same fashion.

Right before the two Italians hand their hands behind the each other, the third Italian popped up between them and thrust his hands in both of their faces. "PDA," Lovino droned. He then looked down at his brother who was wailing like a banshee and rolling on the floor. "Fratello? Eh! Look what you did to him you olive-loving son of a bitch!" the red-brown haired teen shouted, pointing an accusing finger at his father who sat on the ground, staring up at his son with a red hand print in the middle of his face.

The pair of darker haired Italians were bickering as Ludwig walked calmly into the room. His face became worried when he saw Feliciano crying on the ground. He went over to the Freshman and helped him up. "Are you okay Feli?" he asked, his voice drowned out by the pair bickering beside him to all but the youngest Italian.

The smaller teen sniffled. "S-si..." he whimpered quietly.

Alfred watched them with interest then turned to Arthur. "When are those two going to hook up?They've been dancing around each other for forever," he commented with his head and eyebrows still cocked slightly.

The younger teen looked so cute in the other's eyes he couldn't help but stare. A light blush was still on his face and it grew brighter when the Freshman asked if he was okay. Arthur shook his head and smiled, one with warmth glowing at the edges, "Yeah, sorry, I just spaced out for a bit." He was about to say something else, but Kiku prodded him lightly in the back.

Kiku was a Sophomore as well. He wore slightly long straight black hair, every bit of it cut even and lined up perfectly with the surrounding hairs. It was perfect symmetry. His eyes were averted to the floor and shadowed by his hair to where it looked like they had a mini gradient coming from black to a light mocha. He wore the exact World W Academy dress code excluding his pin. "Ah, gomen, but do you think that I could get into the classroom?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Oh right, of course," the Student Council President said, blushing even more. He went to the seat next to Alfred's and turned it, so it could face other desks that the members could sit in, and his back would be to his adoration.

Kiku took the seat that Arthur's faced and turned it to face his. He pulled out a note book and a pen to scratch down what they discussed; he was Secretary after all.

"Hey Kiku," the blond Freshman grinned at him.

"Hello Alfred," The Japanese teen bowed his head slightly, a small smile on his features.

Arthur felt a tick of annoyance at that. Kiku's face was always neutral as were his opinions. Why was he smiling at Alfred? He grit his teeth for a moment and left out a harsh sigh. "Ludwig, Feliciano do you mind? We have work that needs to be done and I would prefer that it were done soon."

The dark-haired Sophomore across from him picked up on his annoyance and looked down at his note pad and had the pen ready to write down whatever was said, the neutral expression returning. The other two came over and sat down. Suddenly the door closed as if on it's own at the same time as the ringing of thunder.

Alfred yelped and threw his arms around the closest thing which happened to be Arthur. The Sophomore sat there with his face and eyes facing down at the desk. He had just been looking over papers and found the American's arms around him. Blush flared on his cheeks, and he smiled slightly. "Um Alfred?" he forced his voice to stay calm, but ended up sounding annoyed. "What are you doing?"

At the same time Sadiq burst out in laughter. "Pussy's afraid of lightning!" the Turkish teen chuckled a few more times before he saw that Heracles was awake and staring at him. "What?" he asked with a harshness tinging his tone.

"Sorry to correct you—actually I'm not—but I think you mean 'Pussy's afraid of thund-'" The Greek student found himself cut off with a shout of "Fuck you!" from the Turk.

"Ah, sorry!" Alfred sat back in his seat, ignoring the quarreling pair. "The door closed on it's own and freaked me out."

"Eh? Closed on it's own, but I closed it," A voice called from beside the American.

He screamed and turned to face his Canadian step-brother Matthew wore the purple plaid pants of the school and the white button down shirt, like Alfred though he wore a white sweater vest, but it couldn't be seen since the younger always wore a red and white pull-over hoodie with the maple leaf from the Canadian flag on the pocket. Matthew never got in trouble for it though. He wasn't doing it to be troublesome or look cool. He was doing it to express his nationality. His eyes weren't grey in the least, they were blue tinged with violet. The step-brothers had the same hair color, but the younger one—who had only managed to be a Freshman this year because his grades were so good—had longer, slightly wavy hair that was parted in the middle of his head rather than being parted on the side. Where his brother had a cowlick, the Canadian had a long, curl that formed a loop. He had glasses as well, but they were slightly larger and more rounded. He also, childishly, carried a polar bear backpack. What? His mom bought his stuff and she seemed convinced that the younger brother was about seven years younger rather than one. But nonetheless he always used it, he even stuck his Student Council pin on it. Besides with the more childish features and sweater it would be pretty hard not to tell the brothers apart.

"Mattie! When'd you get here bro?" Alfred asked, grinning at his younger look alike.

"Eh? When'd I get here? Just now... When the door closed... Thanks for noticing asshole," he added sarcastically, and rather inaudibly, to the end. The elder step brother didn't hear past the "Just now" and practically ignored him the whole time he was talking so he just grinned and nodded. The younger brother got the desk that was once in front of Arthur's and turned it around to face the other.

"If you say so," the American shrugged after a moment.

The Student Council started working, ignoring the conversations around them, well most of them did. Whenever Alfred spoke Arthur would do his best to listen to both conversations.

Sadiq and Heracles were fighting again. Romaji walked over to them. "Hey guys come one. Why can't we all just be friends huh?" his response was the two Juniors standing up. "That's better. Now get over here and lets have a group hug." They both ran for him and slid under his outstretched arms They stood up and each smacked him in a pressure point on his shoulders. They might get along like fire and ice, but they flow like a raging river escaping the bounds of a dam—powerful and unstoppable—when both provoked by the same thing.

"Oi, what do you two wankers think you're doing?" Arthur snapped at the pair that stood side by side in the same positions.

"Chill Artie they do shit like that every day. Romaji's used to it," the second youngest blond waved dismissively at him.

"Alfred that could be considered assault. It's illegal," the British teen pointed out.

"Come on quit being lame," Alfred frowned.

"I'm not being lame! I'm being just," the Brit nodded to punctuate his words. His head was held slightly higher with a slight snobbish air seeming to form around him.

The younger blond sat and stared at him a moment with his head cocked ever so slightly and a frown on his face before he repeated, "Quit being lame Artie."

The other teen sighed. "Fine whatever, but when you all get charged for assault when you get out of here, don't come _crying_ to me," Arthur scowled.

"But Anglais, what if it were l'objet de votre affection?" Francis called from his place in the room, a smirk on his lips.

"Quit using that disgusting language around me you twat," Arthur scowled at his step-brother.

"I was saying that what if it were our American accomplice? What if _he_ got arrested?" the French teen called louder.

"I wouldn't do anything different then if it were with you Frog," the English teen replied haughtily.

Alfred frowned at him. "But you hate Francy-pants over there," he stated.

"And?" the Briton asked, waiting for more, turning in his seat to face the younger blond.

"Does that mean you hate me too?" The American teen asked, pouting. The pout turned more sad looking and childish when Arthur looked at him.

The Brit's face practically exploded with blush. He other just looked so sad and cute. He slid his vision to the back of the younger blond's chair. "No Alfred," the older blond sighed.

Alfred grinned widely, shiny, white teeth showing and chuckled; his grey-sky eyes shut, and his face tilted down ever-so-slightly with his shoulders raised a bit as well. "Who am I kidding? No one could hate a hero like me," he smiled at the older blond with his eyes open once more.

The Brit stared at him for a moment, before turning back to his fellow Student Council members, blushing a little more than before. "Stupid git..." he muttered.

The American didn't hear the other. He kept grinning and looked out the tinted glass in the door. Something was off. It was a little darker than before. The youngest blond cocked his head and eyebrows. The corners of his mouth dipped down ever-so-slightly. He stared a moment longer before curiosity took his hand and helped him from the chair. It silently lead him to the door. The knob was perfectly still as the Freshman reached for it.

Just before his hand could come in contact with the cold brass, it turned in a flash, and the door was slammed open. Alfred leaped back a couple feet to avoid having the wood crash into him.

In the doorway stooped a figure, almost too tall for the archway where the door typically rested. The lights in the hall were all shut off, saving power since the school would be emptied soon. The usual detention students were used to this, but it seemed twice as dark now with the storm thundering overhead. The figure brought his hand, which contained a large bottle, back, chugged, and let the stench of alcohol hit the students that were within the room. Once the bottle was lowered it was raised once more and chunked at the far wall, crashing against the glass of a poor window who happened to be in the path of the sailing liquor, shattering the bottle and cracking the window. A loud burp echoed through the room and the figure stepped in.

It was the AP World History teacher, Mr. Braginski. He wore a tan overcoat that was made out of rainproof material. It rested atop a yellow turtleneck sweater. He was wearing a pink scarf that the Russian always seemed to keep upon him; no one had ever seen him even get close to removing it. It was as if the scarf was one with him.((I should be shot for that line... feel free to do so...)) He wore a pair of dark brown dress pants with matching shoes underneath. In the teacher's hand was something that made all of the student's stomachs turn. In his hand was a gun. A gun which had raised itself to Alfred's head.

The teacher kept it pointed to the blond's head until he maneuvered him against the wall next to the door, where he lowered the gun to the teen's heart. "Tell her I miss her and love her," he slurred drunkenly into his ear. The Freshman's eyes were wide as the teacher pulled back so he could stare into the teen's eyes as he died. The American student kept his sky-grey eyes locked on the violent violet eyes of the teacher with immense fear and confusion. Before his could ask what the other was talking about a loud bang, echoed through the room.

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><p><strong>Fiery: I've edited the beginning at least 20 times and never the end so excuse mistakes and fails there. I've had this typed for months then gave up on editing the entire chapter.<br>**


	3. Chapter 3

**Copyrights: Story© Me, characters© Hidekaz Himaruya**

**Summary: The characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen? AU USUK Character deaths**

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><p>Chapter Three<p>

There he stood, forcing the other teacher's hand to the ceiling. Romaji had just saved his life. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snapped. His gold coin eyes glared at the other teacher next to him.

The platinum blond haired man's venomous eyes slid over and locked with Mr. Vargas' gaze, more tense, and glaring harsher than the teen pressed against the wall thought possible. The teachers turned and faced each other. Light and dark eyes met harshly. The expression of the brown-haired teacher was one of disgust. He kept a firm grip on the Russian teacher's arm. Mr. Braginski's face was one of complete and utter hatred. His grip on the gun was tense and unrelenting. It seemed that the teachers were trying to glare each other into oblivion.

The air was tense and all the students stood, their breath caught in their throats. Alfred shifted a bit, and saw that Mr. Braginski was ignoring him for the moment. The blond took the opportunity to run behind him and over to the other teens. Arthur and Matthew stood up to meet him. The blonds each rested a hand on Alfred's shoulder as he turned to watch the teachers.

Purple eyes were following the American carefully, cunningly. He looked as though he were planning something. The History teacher's arm went tense, then relaxed. Mr. Braginski sighed and looked over at Mr. Vargas. "I don't know..." he muttered.

Golden eyes trailed down to the gun in the other teacher's hand. Romaji released his wrist and went for the gun. Before he could reach it the weapon the arm flew up to point the gun at his head. "Actually I do," the small Russian voice curled. Mr. Vargas' eyes grew wide and the thunder erupted once more, but this time with screams. The History teacher's eyes were on the American as he fired, a smile on his face as if to say "this will be you. Just wait."

All the teen's faces paled as the Detention teacher slumped to his knees and fell to the floor. When his face smashed against the floor there was a slight cracking noise. After a few seconds of staring blood started to seep out from under the curly hair. Sobs and screams of distress were the only sound in the room and the only movement was two Italians being held back from their father's corpse by a Spaniard and a German.

The gun then turned towards Alfred once more. "Now where were we?" the Russian smirked. The room seemed to grow cold and time seemed to have stopped. The sobbing and screaming of the Italians had ceased to whimpers and hiccups. All eyes were on the American or the Russian.

All except for one pair. Soft green eyes had been staring at the wall in a sleepy manner as this all happened. A mat of soft brown hair raised itself from a desk silently. He sat, unnoticed, and within the teacher's blind spot. A drowsy, neutral face stared at Romaji's corpse for a moment before it snapped harshly to the History teacher. The drowsiness was gone, replaced by utter hatred and alertness. The Greek slid silently from his desk and walked on cat's feet over to the Russian.

Sharp, light gold eyes slid over and spotted the Greek. The pair made eye contact for a split second and the Turkish student found himself free of the tension he had a few seconds ago. His eyes slid over to the teacher, and he stood from his desk. The purple eyes caught the movement and flicked over to him. "Don't try to be a hero, da?" Mr. Braginski's voice sung. His fingers tightened on the trigger and Alfred's eyes grew wider. Everyone tensed except for the Turk and the Greek who was behind the teacher now.

"And what if I do?" Sadiq smirked. "What would you do?" he asked. The dark haired teen started making his way over to the teacher. The Russian responded quickly and his aim was set on a new target. He was about to fire when his arms were yanked from behind and forced behind his back. The Turkish student took his time getting over, enjoying how Heracles and Mr. Braginski struggled. When he reached the pair he quickly kicked the teacher in the gut, forcing both him and the student behind him to the ground. The air rushed out of the Greek's lungs and his grip slipped. The Russian quickly rolled away and stumbled to his feet. He glared for a couple seconds at all the students before running out of the room.

The room was still until Heracles groaned, "You sure took your sweet time there, asshole."

"That's 'cause I wanted to see him turn around and shoot you in your stupid face, pussy. Besides, you held him pretty well," Sadiq pointed out, offering a hand to his rival. The teen on the ground took his hand and allowed the other to pull him to his feet. The pair turned and looked at everyone else.

"Th-thank you..." Alfred whispered. He felt numb and wasn't sure as to whether he should be thankful. The pair nodded in return and then glanced over at the rest of the room. Gilbert had moved and was helping his brother comfort the Italian who had fallen to his knees and was currently sobbing into the German's chest. Francis moved to stand by his step-brother and Matthew.

Sadiq felt a pang of pity, he wasn't very close to Lovino, but the pair had held a few friendly squabbles. He walked over with a frown to where the elder Italian brother was cursing loudly between sobs and struggling against Antonio's grip. The Turk rested a hand on the brother's head and ruffled his hair lightly. The darker-haired Italian stared up at him for a moment before going limp in the Spaniard's arms. Antonio pulled him into a hug and the other turned around in the embrace and hugged him back, sobbing into his shoulder.

"I-I think it would be best if we all left now... You all can finish your detentions after this is reported to the police," the Brit muttered. He started steering Alfred out of the door.

"We gotta get our stuff," the American muttered, getting out of Arthur's grip. He grabbed his bag as did everyone else and left the room. They all looked cautiously around the hallway as they walked. Alfred and Arthur walked in the front and Heracles and Sadiq waked in back.

It seemed like ages that the group walked in the tense silence of their footsteps. The only noises they had heard was the sniffling and the occasional sputter of Feliciano and Lovino. The closest door out was finally in sight when Gilbert froze. Everyone paused and looked at him. The albino seemed to be paler than usual. His lilac-ruby eyes grew twice their normal size and realization seemed to spread over his face. He stood still only a moment before bolting out of the group and running past the door.

"Bruder?" Ludwig jumped. The self-proclaimed Prussian did not stop; he kept running down the hall as fast as he could. No one really wished to go after him and leave the safety of the group. But Alfred, Alfred had a hero complex. The American bit his lip then ran after him. Once the blond was set in motion so was everyone else.

Once they caught up to the albino, they all froze. He was standing in the doorway of the front office, a room with glass walls. Everyone stared wide-eyed in it. Blood was splattered on the walls and seeping into the cracks between the tiles upon the floor. The secretary was slumped over the front desk, a hole through her head that was dripping blood onto the tiles.

"Vater?" Gilbert whispered. Ludwig set Feliciano down and stared over his older brother's shoulder. The brothers crept slowly into the office, everyone following silently. They stepped over broken flower pots and shattered glass until they reached a doorway with a name plate and room number next to it that read:

_O:5_

_Principal_

_Beilschmidt_

A chill set over the room as they opened the door. Within the room was a million papers scattered about the floor messily. The computer monitor was on the floor with a huge hole in the screen about the size of a foot. Only the German brothers ventured into the room. They walked around the desk and their blood froze. On the other side, in front of the chair, which was slammed against the far wall, lay Mr. Beilschmidt a hole through his chest and blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

"F...fick ich," the albino muttered which his brother stared wide-eyed at their father. A few tears started building within their eyes. Ludwig silently ignored them. He turned and left the office, calmly. Once outside of the room he turned and backed into the far wall where he stared into the room. Their was despair welling in him, but he mainly felt numb. This was all too unreal.

Feliciano had followed him out and sat next to him. The Italian leaned on his shoulder and looked up at Ludwig sadly. "Mi dispiace," he whispered.

"Es tut mir leid zu, Feli, es tut mir leid," the blond replied.

The other German brother leaned down and took his adoptive father's hand which was quickly chilling. "Verdammt..." Gilbert whispered. "Verdammt!" he snapped. The albino let go, practically throwing it down, and wiped a tear that was about to spill onto his cheek roughly. He stood and punched the desk. "Gott fickin verdammt!" He shouted. The albino turned and kicked the chair behind the desk over, streaming profanities. After few minutes of destroying the room more, he calmed down and stood still for a moment, taking heaving breaths, before heading out of the office and muttering, "Lets get out of this damned place." a few tears hanging on his chin and running down his cheeks.

The group stared after him a moment before filing out. They walked in a silence drenched in sorrow to the front door. Gilbert was the first to reach it and kicked the door in frustration across the push bar. The door should have flung open, but instead stayed shut with a loud clank. The self proclaimed Prussian stared at it for a moment before kicking again. The door didn't budge.

Alfred walked up to the door next to him and pushed it calmly. No movement. The pair stared at the doors for a second. Gilbert raised his leg to kick again and Alfred huffed. They both slammed into the doors, the albino with his foot and the Freshman with his shoulder. The doors moved in their frames but didn't budge. Both frowned and stared at the doors once more before moving the crowd aside and walking calmly to the opposite wall.

They stood a moment looking over the doors in unison then charged. Before he reached the door, Gilbert jumped and kicked it. A loud clang echoed through the hall and a few sparks shimmered into view for a second, but the door remained shut. Alfred one the other hand, slammed into it with his arm. All that resulted was another clang, and a yelp of pain.

"Don't tell me they're fucking locked..." Arthur muttered.

"They are," the American muttered through clenched teeth. He held his arm tightly.

"Sure as hell are," the self proclaimed Prussian nodded in agreement. He limped ever so slightly back into the group which had merged to stand in front of the doors once more.

"Mon dieu," Francis whispered, "please don't tell me we're locked in."

"Just because one way out is locked doesn't mean they all are," Mathew muttered.

Arthur was about to speak when loud footsteps started coming their direction. The boys froze. The light tapping of polished shoes on tiles clicked their way towards them. The sound was close, too close for comfort. They all started backing away and were about to bolt the moment a shoe stuck out from behind the corner of a near-by hall.

"What's going on?" a rounded, cheery voice asked. From around the corner appeared Berwald—a tall intimating Swedish teen with short blond hair and eyes that glared from behind squared glass frames—and in his arms was Tino—a cheery, short, Finish boy with a round face, blond hair, and light violet eyes.

"Mr. Braginski has um... 'lost it'," Kiku muttered with his passive expression. "He's shot Mr. Vargas and Mr. Beilschmidt and attempted to shoot Alfred-kun."

"What?" Berwald asked in his deep stoney voice. His expression grew harsher and he held his companion closer to his chest.

"That's terrible!" the Finish boy exclaimed, his face distraught.

"You could say that again amigo," Antonio nodded solemnly. Lovino had let go of him a while ago, but their hands stayed linked together and he squeezed the Italian's hand slightly as he spoke. Lovino squeezed back. The tears were starting to stop falling from both Italians' eyes since they saw that the German brothers were able to handle themselves better, and they made an effort to try and contain their emotions out of shame.

"And now the door's locked," Sadiq and Heracles muttered in unison. The pair glared at one another. "Would you stop copying me!" they shouted. They growled and leaped upon each other.

Alfred jumped in and so did Ludwig. The pair pulled them apart. Only for them to lung together again. The blonds kept struggling to part them. Arthur watched with wide eyes when someone giggled behind him. "They are so funny, da?" His blood went cold. The Brit turned his head slowly and stared at the Russian teacher. The man smiled a small, warm smile.

The sound of scuffling stopped and the group started gathering close together. "What do you want?" the Englishman whispered. He turned and started backing up into the group. Before he reached it Francis grabbed him and pulled him inside to the thick of the small group.

"I want the blond one," the violet eyed man stated simply.

"Several of us are blond. I'm afraid you'll have to specify," the English accent called from the crowd.

"The one with blue eyes," the Russian specified.

"There are five of us with blue eyes. You'll have to be more specific," Matthew called before Arthur could.

"The one with glasses," The history teacher frowned. He was getting displeased by this situation very quickly.

"Th-there are three of us," the Canadian muttered, his voice getting shaky as the options narrowed. All the teens who had been there when Romaji was shot knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Enough with your games, da," the violet eyed man scowled. He pointed his gun at Tino and Berwald. "Send him out or I shoot," the teacher ordered. Nobody moved. "I'll give you until I reach one to send him out. Five..."

Alfred started to move out but Arthur held him in place and Matthew started moving through the crowd as well.

"Four..."

Alfred's younger brother reached the edge of the group when Gilbert and Francis pulled him back in. The American struggled against Arthur to get out.

"Three..."

Matthew was fighting against the two larger teens unsuccessfully. Alfred broke free from Arthur.

"Two..."

The blond started tearing his way through the group only for Arthur to tackle him to the ground. "Stop it," he hissed. The Englishman stared at him with wide desperate eyes and seemed to be fighting himself for a moment.

"One."

Alfred pushed him off and ran to the edge of the group. "I'm here!" he shouted as Ivan's finger tensed on the trigger. "I'm here..." the Freshman muttered.

"Too late, da?" the Russian smiled and pulled the trigger.

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><p><em><strong>Translations(done via Google Translate and my little knowledge):<strong>_

**F...fick ich - F...fuck me**

**Mi dispiace - I'm sorry**

**Es tut mir leid zu, Feli, es tut mir leid - I'm sorry too, Feli, I'm so sorry**

**Verdammt - dammit**

**Gott fickin verdammt! - God fucking dammit!**

**Mon dieu - My god**

_**A/N**_

**The O:5 for Mr. Beilschmidt's office is the room number. It stands for office room number five. Also the sparks form the door, I have a friend who has done that before. The guy ran, jumped, kicked the door and the impact from his shoe made sparks, though he didn't open the door that time cause he missed the push bar.**

**Another thing, I don't do Berwald's accent because, really, it wouldn't be as bad as everyone makes it. Also I find it quite annoying to have to sit and translate one sentence that was spoken in English.**

**And sorry that the ending got so sloppy in this chapter.  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Copyright: Characters© Hidekaz Himaruya, Story© Me**

**Summary: he characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen? AU USUK Character deaths**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

A sound like thunder erupted through the hallways of the High School followed by a loud thud and a shout. Inside the rain drenched school you could see a group of students standing in mortification, staring at a comrade who had fallen upon his face with a bundle of person below him with a bullet wound seeping blood onto his school uniform through his fancy, blue jacket and crisp, white dress shirt. The mass below the person was shouting in shock and yelling in Finnish. No one knew what the distressed boy was shouting about, but as he crawled out from under his companion everyone could understand exactly what he was shouting. Tears were streaming down Tino's face as he flipped over his Swedish friend. He started shaking him, still screaming.

Berwald's face was calm and relaxed and for once all the intimidation was gone. A soft, loving look was all that anyone could see. It was shocking. No matter how hard the Senior had tried before he always looked wickedly horrifying. Everyone always wondered why Tino hung out with him, but now they could see why.

The blue-eyed teen reached up and put a hand on the Fin's shoulder. He started talking to the other in Swedish. Tino yelled at him with fear and sadness stretching its way across his face. The tall blond teen's hand moved from the other's shoulder to his cheek as the Finnish boy kept insisting something, begging something. Berwald interrupted him quietly with a few words. The other boy's face flushed and more tears escaped his eyes. He sobbed loudly and clung tightly to the Swedish teen and muttered something back in Finnish. Berwald guided him with one hand up to his face and gave him a gentle kiss.

Everyone was shocked, they had all known the pair to be close, but _that_ close? Who would have thought it?(Certainly not them.) Mr. Braginski watched with a devastated expression. His face had fallen completely and he watched with wide violet eyes, his mouth moving as if he had something to say. When the Swedish teen stopped responding Tino was yelling louder at him. The teen collapsed on the other with loud, aching sobs. The teacher walked over silently as the Finnish teen carried on. He seemed possessed as he moved or as if he wasn't really there. The man lifted the gun a little so that it pointed at Tino and fired. The teen's sobs cut off in a horrid gurgling sound. He had missed the boy's head and shot through his throat. The man's hand shook and he shot the teen again in the head, seeming almost remorseful.

Alfred stood out in front of the group with wide horrified eyes. Arthur walked silently up behind him, completely and utterly pale. His footsteps had shattered the silence and whatever was possessing the Russian. Mr. Braginski blinked turned slowly around to face the group of teens. "Do you see what you make me do?" The man sighed. "Now be a good boy and hold still." He stalked over to the blond and smirked down at him. The violet eyed teacher leaned down and whispered into his ear. "You know who I am da?"

"Y-you're um... you're Mr. Braginski... the AP World History teacher..." Alfred replied hesitantly.

"No. You might not remember it though since it was years ago... But I'm your father. Not you're real one since your mother fell that sick fuck you call a father's charms, but she was married to me," the teacher breathed, the stench of alcohol flowing all over the American causing all the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle. The teen stiffened a bit. The man's sick laughter rang through the air. "and I'm also the man that killed her."

The boy's blood turned to ice. "Wha... What?" he whispered.

"Don't be stupid da? I know you remember the... _accident_," the man whispered. He raised the gun to Alfred's head.

Alfred stared at him wide eyed. Hell, he remembered what the man was talking about. He remembered it too well for his liking.

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><p>When he was living with his mother Alfred had moved from town to town, city to city, school to school. The longest they ever stayed in one place was five months when they moved up by the Canadian border. The boy had always asked why he couldn't stay with his friends, but his mother always brushed him off with an "I'll tell you when you're older." He insisted every time they moved that she tell him, and when he was eight, the day of the <em>accident<em>, he was close to finding out. He often believed that his curiosity was what caused it.

When he was climbing the large concrete staircase leading up to the floor he lived on after school, Alfred ran into a man. He wore a large black trench coat that shockingly fit snugly to his broad shoulders and a long pinkish scarf that went up over his nose. The man wore a black fedora on his head that shaded his eyes and distorted the color of them and cover most of his tannish blond hair.

He had been leaving the boy's floor and blocked the way up the stairs when he spotted the dirty blond child with an annoying cowlick which stood up like a soldier, unyielding to his mother's constant fiddling every morning.(Even super glue had not suppressed the sucker. If anything it made it collect more hairs for it's defiant little army.) He stared wide-eyed at the stranger for a bit before showing him a toothy grin. "Hello," Alfred greeted, "Who are you? I've never seen you around here before."

"Ivan," the man muttered.

"You have a funny accent. Where are you from?" the boy asked curiously, tilting his head to the side as he did so.

"Russia," the stranger muttered. He appeared to be trying to stare the child into oblivion, but the naïve boy didn't notice.

"Oh Russia? I heard that place is horrible. No wonder you came here. America is so much awesomer," the little boy replied, scrunching up his nose in a slightly disgusted manner. "Are you moving in the room across the hall?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"Cool. It's been empty for months. It'll be nice to have a neighbor there again," the boy nodded back. They stood in silence for a minute. "Um... Do you want to come back to my room?"

"Do you often offer to bring strangers to your room?" the man asked in his gruff accent.

"No, but Mommy told me that if anyone moved into that room and became our new neighbor to treat them nicely," Alfred informed him with a little shrug.

"I see," Ivan nodded.

Alfred grabbed his hand and started leading him to his room. They sat in the apartment for an hour before Alfred's mother came home, and when she did, she froze in the door. The boy had been talking animatedly about Batman to Ivan, but stopped when he saw his mom. He ran over to her and hugged her in greeting. "Mommy look! This is Ivan he's our new neighbor!" the boy exclaimed.

"That... That's lovely Alfred... Why... Why don't you go to your room and play with your toys for a bit? I'd like to speak to Ivan for a minute," his mother said with a wry smile. She was a tall, thin woman with long, pale, brown hair which was quickly turning a silvery white put up in a bun and had wide blue-grey eyes behind slightly triangular frames.

Alfred had nodded and left his room. He started playing happily until he heard crashing noises. The boy looked up and then climbed off of his bed and opened his door. His mother was shouting at Ivan and the man growled something back then stormed out. The little American walked out of his room and went over to his mother who was sobbing. When he hugged her she choked out, "We have to go again, Sweetie."

The boy stared at her with wide confused eyes. "Why?" he asked.

"I'll... I'll tell you in the car, please Alfred just go pack up and quickly," his mother insisted.

"Okay mommy," the boy nodded. He had become quickly skilled in the practice of packing and had his room stored away in ten minutes. When he walked out he helped his mother finish packing then they brought everything downstairs and to the car. Alfred went and sat behind the passenger seat and waited as his mom went back inside and explained that they were leaving the complex and to turn in the keys. After that was over his mother got in the car and drove out of the parking lot in silence. Then she looked over at her son.

"Alfred... This'll be hard to explain, but that man was-" she started. Alfred had been staring out the front window as she spoke. Right when she started they turned a corner. On the other end of the street they ended up on was a large black SUV looming ominously and not moving, he figured it had broken down until it turned and started coming down their lane, head on. His mother had gone silent immediately and honked her horn to try and get the person driving's attention. They kept going though and sped up. The American's mother started to swerve to avoid it, but the car got in the way again and as the cars grew closer Alfred saw Ivan smirking in the driver's seat of the other car. The man's large car sped up once more and slammed into Alfred and his mother's small one. There was an eruption of noise; the crumpling of metal and the shattering of glass. The world itself seemed to be falling apart around Alfred as there was a horrible cracking and squealing sound. The cars miraculously kept going until they were pushed into traffic and another car T-boned at the driver's door of his mother's car.

Alfred started screaming and wailing once he was over the initial shock. Soon there was the screeching of brakes all around him and the cars all stopped. The boy didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he wanted to get out of the car which was becoming stained with his and his mother's blood. He flailed with the seat belt for a moment and then scrambled to the door and unlocked it. Right as he did so a man opened the door and Alfred came spilling out, hitting his head on the asphalt, causing everything to go dark.

Alfred's mother been covered in a rain of glass and stabbed by blazing hot shards of metal. She had been stuck in the car with a broken arm, head trauma, and had bled to death before the ambulance had arrived Alfred had been told when he awoke in the hospital the next day. After years Ivan had never been found and the boy had gone to go live with his father, step-mother, and step-brother up in Canada for a while before he was dragged back down for schooling again.

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><p>He hadn't been able to breath every time he spotted Mr. Braginski his first year of High School because of some haunting feeling in the back of his mind that was always nagging at him to run. He had pushed the incident, the thoughts, and the feelings to the back of his mind though, did the best to forget it and his mother so that the images and horror would never come back, but here they were. God how he wished that he had remembered then none of this would have happened.<p>

The teen stared at Ivan worriedly when the man pulled back with a smirk. The grin faltered though when he saw the other's eyes. "Emily?" he whispered. Those ferocious eyes suddenly turned loving and he caressed Alfred's face with the barrel of his gun. "Don't worry. I'm just going to save you..." he whispered. The barrel stopped and rested between the American's eyes. His finger tightened on the trigger, but before he could fire, Arthur tackled the Freshman to the ground.

Mr. Braginski growled in frustration and aimed at the Englishman who stared back in terror. Arthur threw his arms tightly around Alfred and pressed his lips to the other's, whispering a quick, "I think I love you." before the teacher pulled the trigger.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Sorry if there are editing mistakes and the like. I also apologize for killing Tino and Berwald so early, but I really have no idea how to write for them. I personally think it's kinda an awkward pairing, but I still ship it so *shrug*. **

**But yeah back to the editing thing. I was at Ikki Con in Austin, Texas with my England and Prussia(who kept getting things from Shizu-chans like free ramune and a Gilbird whenever we left her alone. It was also our first time meeting her in real life which was epic... cept she trolled me the whole time and had me pinned to the floor adn tickled me till I wanted to eg her to just kill me cause it was so horrible *most ticklish person in the world, ticklish everywhere even on entire head*) and I had the traumatic experience of getting dragged into a cosplay picture with a bunch of random Hetalian which was kinda a funny story. I had bought ramune and then when I turn around someone said "We need more Hetalians for our picture" and then a Russia spotted me and hugged me and started telling me to join the picture. Apparently my freaked out face is hilarious. If you can't tell, which you probably can't I'm an America and hate Russia... and France... but mainly Russia. For any of you that went, which I doubt any of you who read this went, I was carrying around a huge pikachu.**

**Sorry for getting updates out so slowly and sorry that I kinda threw a chunk of background in there. I am writing a story with my actual characters which is based off of this, and I wanted to get that part planned out.**

**YES AND NO TO ALFRED'S MOTHER BEING AN OC. I MADE HER UP ON THE SPOT CAUSE HONEY BADGER DON GIVE A SHIT AND GUESS WHO'S THE HONEY BADGER... I've been saying that too much recently...**

**Also I know awesomer isn't a word, but Al's a kid at that point so he doesn't.  
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	5. Chapter 5

**Copyrights: Story© Me, Characters© Hidekaz Himaruya**

**Summary: Rewritten and actually edited version. The characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen? AU USUK Character deaths**

_**I apologize in advance for the low quality of this chapter you see, I was up unti 6 AM roleplaying. Then I realized the time. I have a livestream to watch at 10 AM, so I decided I'd stay up and work on my story until then, so I was half asleep doing this.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

There was a click and silence. Alfred was staring at Arthur wide-eyed up until that. His eyes flicked up to Ivan who cursed. The man searched his pockets for ammo, but found none. The students knew what was going on. He was powerless now, and it gave them all a burst of strength and courage. All of them started advancing towards the teacher besides the Feliciano, Arthur, Alfred, and Francis.

The teacher looked at them wearily then turned, backing up slowly before turning tail ran away. The boys stood for a moment before shouting after him, releasing their anger and sorrow in harsh words and jeers. All but Alfred and Arthur took no part in the insulting. The American was staring up at the Englishman. The Sophomore laughed once weakly.

"Y-you love me?" the younger blond asked.

Arthur's face flushed, and he pushed himself off of Alfred after swallowing harshly. He stood staring at the American with his hands clenched for a few seconds before turning his back on the other and crossing his arms. "O-of course not, git," he stuttered with his head tilted up in a snooty fashion. His gaze then slid in the other's direction, and he glanced at him over his shoulder and huffed, "But that doesn't mean I should go around letting you get killed. I am Student Council President, everything that transpires here is my responsibility since," he swallowed again, "since there are no longer teachers to help keep you prats in line."

The Freshman stared up at him and frowned. "Yeah... Sorry," he sighed. Arthur was responsible for everyone. Right... Though it all seemed painfully like the American's fault, and that he should be responsible not Arthur, he didn't say anything. "But you kissed me," he pouted, "and I heard you say it."

Francis had yelled one thing in French at the Russian teacher before turning to watch Arthur and Alfred with a smirk. The others were starting to cease at this point as well, and all eyes slowly started turning to each other or to the pair on the ground.

The English student noticed and flushed even redder. "I fell on you—that kiss was an accident if you even want to call it that—and you must have only been hearing what you wanted too!" he snapped.

"Oh..." Alfred muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground. He pushed himself to his feet. The Brit felt a sharp pang of sorrow and opened his mouth to speak, but he cut himself off as the American raised his head with a huge grin. "Either way, we need to try and find a way out right?"

"Right," Arthur nodded, a little shocked and disappointed. The Freshman pushed past him and started heading in the direction of the fine arts hall. They had walked in silence for about two minutes when they heard a loud clang. The sound of metal hitting tiles. They could faintly hear the rushing of water. The group froze. Lovino clung tightly to the Spaniard next to him, and Feliciano started whimpering and holding tightly to the German beside him.

They stood in silence filled only with the faint noise of the water. Soon, they heard footsteps walking meticulously slow towards them. He knew where they were, and he was coming. They had all concluded that and in a burst of chaos, scattered. Each ran in different directions, most running away from Alfred. All of them ran down different halls, all avoided the one the sound came from.

When the chaos among the few there erupted, Arthur looked around for Alfred. The other was already out of sight, so the Student Council President had run into the nearest room, namely the Band Hall. He was about to close the door when Francis ran in behind him and tried to slam the door shut, but it caught on Arthur's shoe. The Englishman winced. He had shoved his foot in the way to keep the noise down. After a second he recovered his composure, raised a finger to his lips, and pulled his foot back. They then closed the door quietly. The pair of relatives had quickly pressed their backs against the door. Their heart beats were drumming in their ears and their blood was rushing violently. Each stared at the window beside their heads in horror as they heard footsteps approaching. It didn't sound right though, it was as if they were coming from within the room.

Blue and green eyes slid from the window to before themselves to see Mr. Edlestein, one of the band directors staring at them, an eyebrow raised. He was dressed in a fine purple suit, with white undershirt, and a black tie. The Austrian man's hair was slicked cleanly back with a signature curl upon his head. "What do you two think you are doing here, let alone this late?" he asked in his germanic accent.

The Frenchman and Brit began speaking over each other in hushed tones. Each spilling the story in a different fashion. Then they argued over who should speak and were about to start smacking each other when the teacher interrupted.

"Shut up won't you?" the aristocratic man frowned. "One at a time! I can't understand a word you're saying."

There was a cry from down the hall and Arthur and Francis paled. "Mr. Braginski's gone batshit," the Englishman summed.

"I expected better language from you Mr. Kirkland, and what do you mean he's gone 'batshit?'" Mr. Edlestein asked.

"He's going around killing people. First Mr. Vargas, then all the office staff—or maybe he killed them before Mr. Vargas, Berwald, and Tino. He's almost killed Alfred, but he ran out of bullets, and on top of that the bugger is smashed!" Arthur exclaimed, then he grew pale. Alfred. That cry, was it him? Was the American being slaughtered while they sat blissfully hidden talking to a teacher, someone with the potential to protect or save them?

The Austrian stared at them with a dumbstruck expression for a moment then frowned. "You are being ridiculous. He couldn't have done that." By the time the man had stopped talking, the green eyed teen had whipped around and was fumbling for the door. Francis noticed and started pulling him back.

"Let me go you wanking, whorish frog!" he snapped, trying to punch the other. The other Sophomore stumbled back and away from him.

"Kirkland!" the teacher snapped.

The addressed student didn't care, he threw the door open. "Alfred?" He called. Silence answered. "Alfred?" Arthur snapped once more. The Freshman came stumbling from around a corner with Braginski stumbling behind him. The Englishman paled and threw the door open wider for the American teen. Alfred stumbled inside and helped the Sophomore tug the door shut. They were so close to shutting it when a metal pipe caught the edge of the door and threw it open, out of the teen's grasps.

The tall, postal teacher stalked into the room. The two blonds at the door began backing up. Francis started whimpering, hiding behind the teacher. Mr. Edlestein spotted the blood splatter upon the other teacher. "Mr. Braginski what is the meaning of this?" he demanded, pulling the pair of blonds back against him.

Sickly sweet was the smile on his face as the other spoke. "I'm settling something Roderich. Please, release the children," he requested sweetly.

"Not until you sober up. You reek of alcohol. Really, how much have you drank? And when was the last time you washed that scarf? It is coated in dirt and covered in holes. Let me have that thing, so I can patch it up for you, really," the Austrian became to nag.

When Mr. Edlestein suggested he take off the scarf, something appeared to have snapped in Russian teacher. His gaze turned hateful. The smile on his lips widened, and he raised the pipe. "How about you shut your fucking mouth da?" with that he swung down.

Mr. Edlestein pushed Alfred and Arthur out of the way, stumbling enough out of the way to not be hit. Francis however was not so lucky. The pipe came crashing down on his head with a terrifying crack, and he fell, unconscious. This terrifying damage however was not enough for the History teacher in his blind rage. He raised the pipe and brought it down time and time again creating deep, bloody craters in the Frenchman's skull with sickening, squelching, crunches from blood, brain matter, and bone being displaced and fractured. The flamboyant teen's body folded in on itself, bones cracking as his body was beaten horribly, to the point where recognition would be impossible.

The music teacher watched in horror with the American while the Englishman felt himself getting sicker as he heard each terrifying noise, and griped the Freshman beside him tightly, his face buried in his chest to avoid seeing the incident occurring before them. From one of the practice rooms Ms. Héderváry emerged and watched the scene as well, growing pale quickly. A hand flew over her mouth as she started cussing in Hungarian. The room had been still, excluding Arthur's flinches and Ivan's ferocious swinging, until suddenly Mr. Braginski stopped.

All that was left of Francis was a quickly spreading, bloody mass in the center of the floor. Arthur looked up. The teacher was just standing there panting, eyes glazed over for a second until they snapped to Alfred. Slowly, he started to approach the trio a few feet from him.

Mr. Edelstein quickly yanked them to their feet and shoved them past the now blood coated man. The Russian had whipped around to take a swing at them, but a music stand came from across the room to hit him in the back, causing him to whip back around. Ms. Héderváry had thrown it and had another at the ready. She was not quivering in the least. The brunette teacher stood firm, her jaw set. "Roderich," the Hungarian muttered.

"Yes love?" he responded, watching in dismay and Ivan drew closer to her, brandishing the pipe.

"Take care of the children," she ordered.

"I-no. I won't leave you Elizaveta!" the Austrian refused stubbornly.

"Someone has to Roderich!" Elizaveta snapped at him. Mr. Braginski was almost upon her. A tear slid down her cheek as fear set in. "I love you," she whispered before giving a battle cry and swinging at the Russian with the weak metal of the music stand. The steel pipe dented it from just parrying the blow she had aimed at scarf wearing man.

The students stood in the doorway frozen, watching the teachers duel. Ms. Héderváry obviously had a lot more experience and speed, but the larger, stronger teacher was backing her into a corner, and she soon started to swing more frantically. Her back hit the wall, and Mr. Edelstein faced the teens. "Run," he whispered before charging the much larger man.

The Student Council President snapped out of the trance first and dragged the American down to the next hallway. "Start trying the doors!" the elder ordered. The younger nodded numbly. A shout sounded from the Fine Arts Hall followed by another. They froze and then started frantically tugging on door after door. Another scream erupted as they tugged on the last door that cut off as the door clicked open.

"They gave us enough time..." the Sophomore whispered, staring in the direction of the band's classroom. He then slipped in the door followed by the Freshman. The pair surveyed the room in silence before they moved under the teacher's desk in the corner it, tears starting to run down their cheeks from the shock of what they had just seen. Arthur started sobbing openly, not even trying to hide it as numb tears slid down the younger blond's cheek.

Unsure of how to comfort the other blond, Alfred put an arm around the elder's shoulders and pulled him closer. There was a louder sniffle and the green eyed Brit beside him turned him and tugged him into a tight hug. Hesitantly the taller teen's arms wound around his back and he embraced him just as tightly.

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><p><strong>AN Time!**

_**Hey guys, once again I'm extremely sorry it has been so long, and sorry for the low quality of the chapter. I figured you guys couldn't wait to read it since it kinda was a cliff hanger. Leave a review calling me a fuck if you are pissed at me for taking so long if you like I don't care.**_

_**Thanks to all of you guys who are still reading it. I know its been MONTHS like my last update was what? December? Yeah... sorry. I got extremely depressed and started writing for other fandoms. I'm still really depressed. Been down past the point of Suicide since December, now I'm to the level of so numb I say fuck the world, lets just take it as it comes at this point. I'm just here to see how much more shit it can throw at me, and to give my friends one less thing to worry typically cheers me up when I get good reviews for fanfiction a bit though, so those of you who do review, just know you guys and people like you who reviewed and liked my stories are actually what kept me alive during Spring Break. I really thank you guys for it. 83 Even if I didn't update these stories, I updated others and I saw a few Hetalia fans out there reading it ;) I actually would have started updating sooner, but I am on my third week of being sick, but I'm a lot better now, so I'm saying fuck it I can be as unhealthy as I want now.**_

_**Anyways guys, that's why I've been gone, I thank you dearly for your patience. Thanks so much for reading and sticking around, I love you all 83**_


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